PB&J
by We'll Find Better Days
Summary: The love story of Jim Halpert and Pam Beesly. Includes parts from the show, and parts I made up myself. Will update as soon as some reviews are posted.
1. Valentine's Day

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing of The Office. . . except for every season on DVD :)

**PB&J: The Story of Pam Beesley and Jim Halpert**

It was Valentine's Day--another excuse for everyone to not be doing their jobs. Or so Dwight Schrute thought as Michael did a "Cupid Dance" for the entire office. Jim looked at the camera with that I-Can't-Believe-He-'s-Actually-My-Boss expression he wore whenever Michael did something stupid. . . which was quite often.  
"It symbolizes the love we all—share for—one—another," Michael said, out of breath but with a proud smile on his face. "Jimbo. Why don't you show us your Cupid Dance?"  
"Nope. I'm good."  
"C'mon. It'll be—"  
"I'll do it, Michael," Dwight said earnestly. He would do anything to please his boss. Dwight got up from his seat, but before he could begin his dance, Michael silenced him.  
"No. Dwight, no. Sit. I was just—" Like usual, Michael was having trouble with his words. He shook his head, and started over. "Okay, everybody. Conference room in five. We're gonna discuss today's festivities so get your most lovable faces on," he said and went back to his office, leaving the door open. Dwight followed him inside.  
Jim got up from his desk to see Pam, the office receptionist. "Dunder Mifflin, this is Pam," she said, answering the phone. "I'll connect you to her. One moment please." She smiled as Jim approached her. She was dying to know what he thought of Michael's not-so-graceful dance. "Kelly, you're on with John," she said through the phone and then hung up.  
"That was. . ." Jim said, looking at the wall behind Pam, trying to think of an appropriate response to what everyone had just witnessed. "Eye-opening."  
"Did you see the part when he was grinding his hips—"  
"I saw it all, Pam. No need to remind me about it." Pam laughed. God, she's beautiful, Jim thought, watching the way her eyes twinkled when she smiled. "This is probably the wrong moment to tell you this, but Happy Valentine's Day."  
"Happy Valentine's Day to you."  
The door creaked as Roy Anderson walked through the entrance and smiled at Pam. He was fair skinned with brownish-blonde hair. He had on his work uniform that read ROY ANDERSON, WORKHOUSE where his heart-pocket was. He gave Pam a kiss on the lips. Jim walked away uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact with the camera. It was painful to see the way she looked at Roy. Every day was painful. He was so happy when they were together, but when he left work and went back to an empty house, that was when it hit him hard.  
Phyllis and Stanley made their way into the conference room. Kelly, Creed, Meredith, and Oscar followed. Jim usually walked in with Pam, but considering she was busy at the moment with her fiancée, he walked in by himself. A few minutes later, after everybody was seated, Michael entered the room. He was wearing a halo and there was a fake arrow stuck to his behind. He was smiling from ear-to-ear, and already giggling under his breath.  
"Hello, friends. My name is Cupid, the God of Love. I—"  
"Cupid, why do you have an arrow stuck to you?" Jim asked with pretend curiosity.  
"You ask a wonderful question, Jim. That is because I have been shot with Love." He smiled at the camera.  
"But if you were Cupid," Pam said, "wouldn't you be the one shooting people with arrows?"  
"Love arrows," Jim corrected Pam quietly. She couldn't help but giggle.  
"Um," Michael began to say, his smile disappearing as he realized he had done his research wrong. Damn Wikipedia, he thought. "Doesn't matter," he said, his voice rushed. "Today is all about love, and I am here to teach you a little bit about the wonders of love." He cleared his throat. "Webster's dictionary describes love as—"  
"What does this matter?" Stanley said in his slow, monotonous voice, looking up from his crossword.  
"This is important," Dwight said, his voice level and ringing with authority. "Michael is here to teach. And if you do not respect that, then you should leave." Dwight intended to scold Stanley and intimidate him, but Stanley got up from his seat, crossword in hand, and walked towards the door.  
"No. Stanley, stay. Just sit down," Michael said. He sighed and tore the arrow from his behind. "Look, guys, I just wanted to make this Valentine's Day extra special. We'll just," he said, then stopped. "Party Planning Committee, take care of today's festivities. Meeting over. Everyone just go back to what you were doing." Michael walked out of the room, a glum expression on his face.  
"You heard him," Dwight said, standing up and staring at his coworkers. "Get up and leave. Back to work. Pronto."  
As Jim walked by Dwight, he smiled at him. "You look cute today, Dwight."  
"Real mature, Jim," Dwight said, rolling his eyes.  
"Did you get a haircut?"  
"That is none of your business," Dwight said, then looked at the camera, and then back to Jim. "But yes, I did."  
"It's nice. Where'd you get it done?"  
"Wellerman's," he said, darting his eyes from the camera back to Jim.  
"Wellerman's. Interesting."  
Pam watched as Jim exited the conference room. He had that smile on his face, the one that told her he had something interesting up his sleeve. She'd just have to wait and find out what he was planning. . . or she could ask him right now. There were times when Pam felt guilty as she stared into Jim Halpert's eyes. She had a feeling that their friendship was misinterpreted. But other times, like right now, all she felt was happiness warm her body, and all she wanted was to have him near her, make her smile.  
Pam cleared her throat. "Jim!"

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If it wasn't made clear, that is the end of Chapter One. Tell me what you think. If I get no reviews, I won't keep the story going. I'll just delete it or something. I appreciate it, thank you.


	2. Understanding

**Disclaimer:** I have no ownership of The Office.

Hey guys, I'm not going to even explain how sorry I am for such a late update. I'd like to make excuses because of school, work, the gym, friends, the holidays. . . blah blah blah. None of that could excuse for how late this is. Anywaaaaay, I do hope you enjoy this chapter. I promise this time, updates will come soon. Pinky-promise :)

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Understanding

Jim Halpert crossed his legs, leaning backwards in his chair. His eyes narrowed as he listened to the person on the other end of the phone. Pam was watching him, liking the way his brown hair curled at the ends. He must have seen her in the corner of his eye, because he turned his head and smiled at her. It was a comfortable smile, so familiar and genuine, and the way his lips turned up told her he was happy she was there. Pam convinced herself that the sudden race in her heart's beat had nothing to do with Jim and his heartwarming smile. Nothing, she repeated over and over in her head.

Jim hung up the phone after telling the aggravated client that he'd connect her to one of their most friendly customer service reps, Kelly Kappour. Jim got up from his seat and headed over to Pam's desk. She had on that face where she was pretending to be doing her work but was actually looking at something on the Internet.

"Looking at porn again, Beasley?"

Pam gazed away from her screen to look at Jim. In that was only once and it was a sex tape."

"So are you saying a sex tape isn't porn?"

"Yes I am. Why? You disagree, Halpert?"

She's awfully cute when she becomes competitive, Jim thought. "What are you _really_ looking at?" he said, leaning forward to get a better view of the computer screen.

"It's this art school in New York," Pam said and propped her elbows on the desk, cupping her face inside her tiny hands. "They've got everything there—web designing, sculpturing and painting . . . a lot of stuff. It looks, I dunno, really, really nice, I think."

Instead of looking at the screen, Jim watched Pam. He was fond of the way her curly locks framed her face, and how she bit her lip in her pauses. He especially liked her eyes when she spoke of something she was passionate about—they lit up her entire face, bringing all her delicate features to life. It was in these moments that he was deeply in love with Pam; he knew that for the rest of his life, it would always be her. Everything he did and did not do, always led back to Pam.

"Then go," he urged. "Do it."

"I can't," she sighed.

"You can, you're so talented, Pam. You're such a great artist. And you'd do amazing in art school."

"You think?"

"Of course."

They both smiled.

"Hey, you wanna go grab some lunch?" Jim suggested.

"Oh, I can't. Roy and I are actually going out." She peered at her watch. "Well, we were supposed to be gone by now. I don't know what's taking him so long," she said distracted, looking at the door.

Jim shifted his weight from one foot o the other and cleared his throat. "Well I'll see you later then," he said.

Before walking away, Jim smiled. But it wasn't the one Pam was used to. It didn't match the worn feeling in his eyes. Before she could think about it, Roy walked through the door.

****

Halfway through her grilled chicken salad, Pam realized something significant that she had been hiding from herself for a very long time: When she was with Roy, she didn't feel . . . whole. She couldn't quite explain it or put a label on it, but she just knew that the Pam she was with Roy was not the Pam she was with Jim. It struck her harder than her father's slap did in junior high when she mouthed off to her mom. It was like realizing that a big chunk of your life was taken away from you, and it left Pam with an aching, throbbing feeling inside, as if her heart was ripped out of her chest and replaced with emptiness.

"Roy," she whispered, her voice like sandpaper. He was in the middle of telling her a story of how Darryl got so drunk "he puked all over random this dude's windshield".

"Yeah?"

That instant, images of the years passed flooded in and out of the chambers of her mind. She saw her graduation from Valley View High School, the first time she tried seafood, the unforgettable moment when she realized she wanted nothing more than to be an artist. And all of these memories, all of these significant periods of her life, Roy wasn't there. He was in her life, but he was never in her heart. As she looked into Roy's blue eyes, she saw everything that wasn't there; all the things she needed--support, friendship, laughter, romance--were nowhere to be found. A piece of her altered as the truth set in.

"Honey?" Roy said, trying to get her attention. "What's going on?"

Her lungs weren't supplying enough air. Taking a shakey breath, Pam unwound what she had been tucking away for so long.

"I can't marry you, Roy. I can't . . . I can't be with you."

A cold silence filled between them.

"What?" Roy finally choked out.

She barely heard the word. Suddenly, her legs responded and she was getting up from the table, going to the nearest exit.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to Roy's furious screams from behind her. She opened the door, leaving Roy alone in the restaurant, and headed for somewhere very far from here.


End file.
